


Bye Bye, Boy Detective

by FaintingInCoils



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Child Death, Family, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Language of Flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8628562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaintingInCoils/pseuds/FaintingInCoils
Summary: In which Angus dies, Merle and Mavis bond, Pan sends flower messages, and Angus's Rites of Remembrance are way better than Boyland's.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this as a short drabble to deal with my grandfather's death; somehow it grew into this rambling monstrosity. Sorry about that.

Angus is missing. Nobody's entirely certain how long he's been gone, exactly, only that he is. It's been at least two days, though--that much they can all agree upon--and Merle is worried despite himself. He's pacing the length of his bedroom, heavy boots clunking against the handwoven rug he picked up in Neverwinter a few months back, when it occurs to him to attune his Stone of Farspeech to Mavis's and asks when she last saw Angus.

“Angus? Hmm. I guess it was... Four days ago, maybe? We were all taking a walk down by the docks when Mookie and I had to go home for supper. We invited Angus to come with us—Mom really likes him, it turns out—but he said he had to find something, and he'd see us another day. Why? I know you didn't seem to want us to be friends with him, but he's really great, and no trouble at all, I promise. Please don't be mad at him.”

“Mad? Oh, sweetheart, no. I'm not mad at him, Mavey. It's just that, well, he hasn't made it home yet, and we're all getting a little worried. And I know that he visits you kids sometimes, so I thought I'd check in with you. See what type of timeline we're working with here.”

There's a long moment of silence over the stone. “He hasn't been home yet?” Mavis repeats at last. “Well. I'll keep an eye out for him. Ask if anyone else has seen him since then. And I'll let you know. But please tell me when he makes it back, okay?”

“Alright, sweetheart. I promise I will. Daddy's gotta go now. Tell your brother that I love him, would you?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, kiddo. I love you. Take care.”

“I love you too, Pops. Bye.”

Merle switches off his Stone and slumps back against the wall for just a moment before steeling himself. He won't tell her that his kids are involved—she still doesn't know that he has kids, because Angus has kept his secret like a good boy—but he has to let the Director know what he's found out. This is more serious than they'd realized, and they've gotta look out for their Boy Detective.

\-----

Mavis contacts him the next day, just as he’s about to lie down for a nice little post-brunch nap. He hasn’t even worked himself up to talking with the Director yet.

“Hey Dad,” Mavis says. Her voice is calm and quiet, but it's a little wobbly, and Merle's heart begins to race immediately. Mavie’s usually a pretty unflappable sort of girl. “Mom and Mookie and I have been asking around, and, ah... We think...” She clears her throat and gets a little louder, a lot shakier. “We think we've found Angus. You'd better meet us here to make sure.”

“I'll leave right away,” Merle says. “Where should I meet you? Your Mom's place, or the docks?”

“Oh. No. Neither. We're at the Temple of Kelemvor. I'll—I'll see you soon.” She disconnect before he can say anything else.

Merle's racing heart plummets straight to the bottom of his stomach and he’s up and running immediately, no time to even stop and tell anyone where he’s going.

Kelemvor's a god of death.

\-----

Merle clutches his Extreme Teen Bible the whole way planetside. He tries telling himself that it's fine, Angus is probably okay, maybe he just has amnesia or something, but the words feel hollow. They feel like a lie. He keeps repeating them anyway, and soon he’s landing outside of Neverwinter. He heads inside the gates, asks the first city guard he sees for directions to the Temple of Kelemvor, and takes off as fast as his short, stout legs will carry him. He's not even winded by the time he gets there, and he's never been so grateful for all the cardio training Avi and Magnus and Carey have subjected him to on the moon.

Kelemvor’s temple in Neverwinter is a small one, modest save the large golden scales of justice clutched by an even larger skeletal hand jutting forth from the ground in the courtyard. And that’s a blessing, really--the ostentatious temples tend to be relics of the Myrkul days, and he’d rather his kids not be around all that, thanks. He slows to a walk, takes a deep breath, and enters the temple. Mavis is waiting for him just inside, and her face is a blotchy red mess. Merle knows there's no more lying to himself after this.

“This way,” Mavis says, taking his wooden hand—his fleshy one is still clutching his bible—and leading him to the back of the large stone room. “Don't let Mookie go with you, no matter how much he begs. He doesn't need to see Angus like this.” And then she's letting go of his hand and pushing him gently forward towards a robed priest standing by a door.

Merle swallows hard, twice, but can't find any words willing to leave his mouth. Instead he looks up, locks eyes with the priest, and nods. The man nods back, opens the door, and ushers him inside. Merle barely notices Mookie frantically calling for him from a few feet away, and when the door closes he can't hear him at all.

His gaze goes straight to Angus, lying spread out on a smooth stone worktable. His body is waterlogged, the flesh picked over some by the fish, but that outfit? The blue half cape, the shorts-and-suspenders combo, the knee socks--the outfit looks strange now not just because the clothes are stained with mud, but because the ever-present feathered newsboy cap is missing--all signal ‘Angus’ loud and clear. Like anyone else would have been caught wearing that sort of outfit around the docks of Neverwinter.

“Oh, Ango,” Merle murmurs, stepping forward to stand next to the table. His voice has never been this gruff and gravelly before, but he can’t even appreciate his vocal chords’ achievement because of the circumstances. Which figures. “You didn’t even go out in style, you little turd. Taako’s never going to forgive me. Or himself.” Merle catches the look of disbelief that flashes across the priest’s face and glares at him. “Don’t give me that look,” he says, “inappropriately timed humor was sort of our thing. He’d get it.” He doesn’t feel too judged, though; he’s never met a Kelemvorite with even half a sense of humor. Stuffy and somber to the one, but he knows that most folks find comfort in that during their darkest hours, so maybe that’s for the best.

The priest of death silently withdraws to one corner of the room, leaving Merle to inspect Angus. He doesn’t see any wounds except what looks like a blow to the head. Angus could have been attacked, with nobody there to defend him, and the thought has Merle’s stomach sinking further. He doesn’t know where else there is for it to go if it keeps plummeting, and hopes he doesn’t find out.

“Hey. I’m, uh, gonna cast a spell over here, okay? I know you guys probably have opinions about dead people staying dead, but I have to know what happened to him. We’ll only talk for a few seconds and then it’s right back to the afterlife for him, I promise.” And it’s a promise he’ll keep, even, because there’s no returning a soul to a body in this bad of shape, not with his powers at least, and he doesn’t have a robot body handy. Although that’s an idea worth some further thought, if he can get Lucas to help and the Director to keep her nose out of things.

“I’d very much prefer if--” the priest begins, but Merle cuts him off.

“Please. One man of the cloth to another--” he says, fishing his pan flute amulet from beneath his clothes and thrusting it in front of him. “I know I’ve been wrong about spell types before, but I’m pretty sure that talking to the dead for just a second doesn’t count as necromancy. I’m not going to bring him back and keep him around, I just…” His voice breaks, and continuing the sentence is physically painful, his lungs and heart and stomach all aching within him. “I just want to know how bad we’ve failed him. Please.”

Merle stares down at his feet while he waits for a reply, but one never comes. When he finally looks back up he’s alone in the room. “Good enough,” he says, and tries to think of the words to the spell he needs. It takes him a few long moments to remember that yes, that spell is necromantic, and no, he doesn’t, in fact, know it. But he has to do this. He has to.

“Pan, are you listening up there?” Merle calls out, looking in the general direction of the ceiling and not knowing why, since all he’ll see is stone and wood. From the corner of his eye he sees a red carnation sprout from his soulwood arm. He looks down at it with just the barest hint of a smile on his face. “Thanks. I know this is unorthodox, but I don’t know what else to do… You know how you’re friends with Iss… Ismu… Isth… The Lady Fate who has a thing for knitting? And she’s friends with The Raven Queen, so I thought that maybe you’d be able to, uh, pass on a message for me? Or ask a favor for me? I don’t know. It’s just, I really need to talk to Ango down here, and that’s not the sort of thing I can do, apparently. So I need some help. Please.”

There’s more silence, minutes of it, but a new series of flowers bloom while he waits: begonia, hydrangea, begonia, hydrangea, cycling five times. Then there’s a cluster of stephanotis, and Angus’s voice filling the air.

“Merle? Is that you, sir?” Angus says, voice hesitant but as cheerful as ever. “I can’t actually see you, but Mister Kravitz said you wanted to talk to me.” And oh, Pan, that’s right, Angus’s eyes are gone. Fish food, probably, and the poor kid definitely deserved better than that. Even if it is sort of fitting: his body was food for some little fish, and his identity will be food for The Void Fish all too soon. A sort of horrifying balance.

Merle clears his throat as softly as he can. “Yeah, it’s me, kiddo.” He’s looking right at Angus now, forcing his own eyes to stare into the empty sockets of the boy’s face. It’s the least he can do. “I’m really sorry I have to talk to you like this, Angus. How are you?”

“Well, I’m dead, sir,” Angus replies matter-of-factly. He doesn’t sound too concerned with the idea that his life as he knew it is over, and Merle isn’t sure if he’s comforted by that, or heartbroken. “It’s okay, though. I’m already learning a lot from Mister Kravitz. I’ll think I’ll be pretty good at my new job--being a bounty hunter’s not too different from being a detective, after all!”

“Your new what?” Merle asks, startled. “You’re dead. Shouldn’t you be playing with the spirits of other dead kids, or pestering your ancestors, or something?”

“Apparently not,” Angus replies. “You see, sir, I never really decided on who I wanted to worship. I knew that the gods were real, at least most of them, but I was doing my research. I wanted to make the best decision and I thought I’d have more time. But I didn’t, so I had a few options that I don’t think I have the time to tell you about now, and I decided to take The Raven Queen up on the job offer she gave me. I’m still just a little boy, and I suppose I will be forever, but my new scythe is really very big, and Mister Kravitz says it’s enchanted to do most of the work on its own while I’m holding it, at least until I’m strong enough to manage it myself. He said they’ll start me out with easier jobs and let me pair up with him for the first few years. We’re going to be Reaper Buddies!”

Merle has a moment where he is appalled by the idea of a child’s spirit being put to work for eternity, but it passes quickly. After all, Angus has been working for the Bureau, so he’s got no room to judge, and he knows the kid would get bored without something to occupy that too-clever-by-far little brain of his. “That’s great, Angus. Kravitz seems like a pretty good guy, aside from the whole trying to kill us thing a while back. I bet he’s a champ at his job when he’s up against anyone besides the Tres Horny Boys.”

“I thought you’d agreed to stop calling yourselves that, sir?”

“What? Nah. Sometimes the boys say we’ve gotta class ourselves up, be more professional, but it never lasts very long. You know how we are. Anyways,” Merle says, forcing himself back on track, “That’s not why I wanted to talk to you. I’m glad that you’re doing okay over there, but I really needed to know… How’d you die, Ango?”

“Oh. That,” Angus says. Merle had expected him to sound sad, but instead he just seems… flustered. “Well, you see, sir, I was at the docks--”

“The fish-food body sort of tipped me off on that part,” Merle says before he can stop himself, and claps one hand over his mouth. There’s tactless, and there’s that, which was a bit much even for him. “Sorry,” he says after a second. “Go on.”

“It’s okay, sir, I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Anyway, Mavis said that she wanted to make a bracelet out of some rocks she’d found, only she didn’t have enough yet. I remembered that Magnus told me once about a little table he wanted to make out of driftwood and shell one day, and I thought maybe seashells would work for Mavis’s bracelet, too. I decided to get up on the breakwall so I could have a better view of the beach, looking for seashells, when I stepped on a patch of stone that was slipperier than the rest. I fell, and… Well, that’s how I got here. I guess I should have taken Carey up on that dexterity training.” There he goes again, sounding cheerful about his own death, and it’s another metaphorical punch to Merle’s gut. “Oh, but please don’t tell Mavis the details of my beach mishap. I don’t want her to blame herself.”

“I won’t, kiddo,” he says. “I promise.” The door opens behind him, and he can hear the soft sound of cloth on stone. “Listen, Angus, I think I’d better let you get back to your training. Is there anything special you want done at your Rites of Remembrance?”

“Oh, whatever the three of you want to do will be just fine, sir. Only…”  
“Yeah?”  
“I don’t suppose there’s any way that you could sneak some Void Fish ichor to Mavis before my Rites, is there? She’s the first friend my age I ever had, and she’ll probably be the last. I know that it’s selfish, and very against the rules, but… I don’t want my best friend to forget about me.”

It’s one blow after another with this kid today. “I think I can work something out if I ask Magnus and Taako for some help,” Merle says.

“But sir, I thought you didn’t want them to know that you have children!”

Merle sighs. “I didn’t. I still don’t, but if that’s what it takes, I’ll deal with it.” A hand touches his arm and he startles, then remembers himself. “I’ll manage something; don’t worry. Good luck over there, kiddo.”

“Thank you, sir. I love you. Please tell Taako and Magnus and Mavis that I love them too. Goodbye!” Angus’s body slumps back to the table abruptly before Merle even has time to decide if he wants to say ‘I love you’ back, which at least makes that decision easier.

“Thanks, Pan,” Merle says instead, blinking away what are definitely not tears. A dozen zinnia flowers sprout from his soulwood arm in a riot of color. He turns to the priest of Kelemvor. “I was wrong about that spell, but I didn’t end up casting it so it’s fine. Ol’ Pan did me a favor, and I don’t think divine intervention bothers your guy like necromancy does.”

The priest’s gaze darts to Merle’s arm, then back to his face as he looks at him wide-eyed. “Your faith must be strong for your god to aid you in such a way,” he says, respectful.

Merle shrugs. “He’s a pretty cool guy. We’re sort of buds, I think.” A snapdragon sprouts from his hand, hovering over his middle finger, then a buttercup from the center of his hand. They both wilt and fall away to be replaced by several red morning glories. “Yep, we definitely are. That’s good to know.”

“To be so nonchalant about communicating with one’s god--” the priest begins, but Merle cuts him off, not really feeling like getting judged yet again.

“Listen,” he says. “Some people live the types of lives where they talk to gods every now and then. I’m one of those kinds of people. It’s not a big deal.” More flowers--mostly saffron, a little sainfoin, and okay. Maybe Pan has a point, and Merle’s being A Bit Much again. “Well,” he corrects himself begrudgingly, “maybe it’s kind of a big deal. But I can’t go getting all worked up every time it happens, or how would I get anything done?” Merle eyes the youngish human man over and grins at him. “You keep working at your prayers, buddy, and who knows. Maybe you’ll end up with some custom fortune cookie messages on those scales out front or something.”

The Kelemvorite flushes dark red and takes a step towards him, and oh. He looks pretty angry, which could be fun under different circumstances, but isn't really what Merle is going for, honestly. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, hands held up in placation. “I’m not trying to make light of your bond with your god, really. I’m just... like that. It’s probably why I’ve got a ton of party points but not a ton of friends.” And one fewer, now, with Angus gone. His smile slides away. “Listen. I’m going to retrieve my friend’s body and then we’ll get out of your hair, okay?” He hopes the guy has hair somewhere under that hood of his, because that turn of phrase wasn’t intended as an insult either. “Thanks for everything you guys have done--real solid work with the bodies, you’re doing an extremely important job--but we’ve got some very specific rites of our own to perform for the kid, and I probably need to get on that ASAP, you know.”

Which, come to think of it, is the type of thing that might get awkward and even more horrible if he’s not very careful. “I’ve gotta get my kids settled back at home, and then I’ll come back for Angus, okay? I’ll be an hour, tops.”

Merle emerges from the preparation room to find that Hecuba’s already taken Mookie home, but Mavis is still waiting. She’s seated alone on a wood and stone bench, hands clasped on her lap, and looks up when she hears the door open.

“Hey Pops,” she says. “You were in there a while.”

“Yeah,” he says, walking over and sitting down next to Mavis. “I was talking to him, courtesy of ol’ Pan.”

“That was good of him,” Mavis says. She lifts her hands, unclasps them, and a pan flute pendant of her own comes swinging out: a tiny pewter thing on a leather thong. Merle is surprised to see it; he’d given it to her years ago, and honestly figured she’d lost it by now. He probably would have at that age, if his father wasn’t such a hard-ass about all that religious crap. “Maybe my prayers helped. I’d like to think so.” Baby’s breath, pear blossom, and periwinkle bloom from his arm in large, bright bursts, and Merle wonders if he should translate the message for Mavis. Then he remembers the thin, pocket-sized copy of “The Language of Flowers for Beginners” he’d given her the Candlenights before last, and figures she probably already knows. 

\---

Merle had thought Boyland’s Rites of Remembrance were pretty drastically delayed; it turns out that was nothing. It’s almost four months before Angus’s are scheduled: there’ll be time for an entire season to change, at least down planetside--there’s no seasons on the moon, not really. Even if the Director and everyone else--Merle himself included--need time to collect themselves and work through their grief, that long of a wait just seems disrespectful.

The upside is all the time it gives Merle to acquire some Void Fish ichor. He still doesn’t want to tell the boys about his kids unless he’s got no other choice, but after a month of failed brainstorming and another week or so of hemming hawing he finally gives in.

He approaches Magnus as they’re headed back to their dorms after supper in the mess hall; Taako is off who-knows-where, told them not to wait up for him. Which Merle wouldn’t have done, but Magnus probably would have, so. Fair enough.

“Uh, hey, Magnus? Can I ask a favor of you?” Merle says the moment they’ve shut the door to their common area behind them.

“Of course, Merle,” Magnus replies immediately. Never any hesitation with that one; Magnus always rushes in. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a vial of that Void Fish goop that we drank when we joined the Bureau,” Merle says, “And I thought that if anyone around here knows how to get it--besides the Director, I mean--it’d be you. And maybe Johann, but only one of you is in my top two best buds list, and it isn’t him.”

A smile appears on Magnus’s face at the compliment, but he still looks wary. “Can I ask you why you need it?””

“You can,” Merle replies, “But I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“Fair enough,” Magnus says after a long pause. “Just one vial?”

“Yeah. Just the one.”

“Any particular time restraint I’m looking at here?”

Merle rubs the back of his neck with his wooden hand, a stray vine stretching up on its own to fix the leather tie restraining his hair into its slightly messy bun. “Before Angus’s rites,” he replies.

The look on Magnus’s face is pained, worried, but he nods all the same and, to his credit, doesn’t ask any more questions, although he’s sure to have some. “Okay,” he says with a nod. “I’ll do my best, but I might end up having to cut it kind of close. I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.” Magnus pauses, lips pursed like he’s about to say something more, but in the end he simply reaches down to clasp Merle’s shoulder for a moment. He squeezes once, gentle and reassuring, then lets go of Merle to head right back out of their quarters. Merle shrugs and retreats to his bedroom. It’s about time he gives Mavis another Stone call, anyway. 

\---

Magnus brings him the ichor in about three weeks, the liquid sloshing around at the bottom of an otherwise empty Pringles can. He doesn’t say how he managed to get it, and Merle doesn’t ask. He just thanks him, nestles the can into his pack, and hurtles himself planetside the first chance he finds. Getting away from the base is even easier than usual; everyone’s distracted and nobody cares too much about one dwarf’s whereabouts, even if that dwarf is Merle Highchurch.

Mavis is waiting for him at their favorite bench in the Blue Garden District--he contacted her on the way. Her face lights up when she sees him, but not as much as it did before all this. Merle can’t really blame her.

“Hey, Mavey,” Merle says, hugging his daughter close. She holds on just as tightly for a few seconds, then steps away to look him in the eye. “Hi, Pops.”

“I’ve got something for you.” He fishes the Pringles can out and offers it to Mavis. The expression on her face as she takes it is skeptical at best, and morphs into sheer incredulity when she pops the lid and looks inside.

“What is this?” she asks, gingerly sniffing the contents of the can. Her nose wrinkles slightly. “It smells like fish and algae.”

“I need you to drink it,” Merle replies, and for a heartbeat he is truly afraid that she might splash the ichor in his face. Thank Pan she’s far more well-behaved than either her brother or himself, because there’s no way he’s asking Magnus to risk getting him a second dose.

“Are you joking?” Mavis asks, and there she goes staring at him again, as though prolonged eye contact might bring about some sort of Zone of Truth effect. It can't, of course--not unless she’s got some sort of innate magical power he doesn’t know about--but the end result is still the same.

“Not this time,” he says. “Look, I’ll admit: the stuff tastes pretty disgusting. But I promised Ango that I’d get some for you, and I did, so bottoms up, kiddo!”

“Angus wanted me to drink this? Why?”

Merle sighs. Kids are just so difficult, even when they’re not trying to be. Not that he’s really got room to talk on that one, but he’s an old man and he’s saved large chunks of the world. He’s earned the right to be difficult. “I’ll explain once you drink it. Nothing I say right now will make sense anyways, believe me.”

“I know you still think of me as a little girl, Pops--”

“Because you are, Mavey.” And oh, the glare that earns him.

“Which means that you asked a little girl to join you on what I assume are your incredibly dangerous adventures once you’re done with whatever it is you’ve been doing. But Mom and Angus and all of my teachers have told me that I’m very smart and mature, especially for my age. So won’t you at least try to explain?”

Puppy-dog eyes aren’t exactly ‘mature’ if you ask Merle, but they work, Pan-damn-it. “Fine, but don’t be surprised when you don’t understand anything. I want you to drink this because it’s Void Fish ichor that will keep you from forgetting all about Angus McDonald once we perform his Rites of Remembrance on the Bureau of Balance’s secret hidden moon base.”

The longer he talks the further Mavis’s head tilts to the side. “What was all that noise?” she asks after a moment of silent gauping.

“It’s the reason I want you to drink from the Pringles can.”

Mavis doesn’t argue this time. She just pops the lid, pinches her nose, and chugs back the ichor. She sways as it kicks in and Merle readies himself to catch her if need be, but his girl is made of sterner stuff than that.

“I’ve heard that noise before, when you and Angus were talking. I just forgot about it every time, didn’t I?” Mavis asks. Merle nods, although he honestly never has paid a whole lot of attention to just what the Void Fish does and doesn’t do; he hadn’t dealt with its effects long enough for it to really matter to him. “Tell me again: what did I just drink? I want to know everything.”

They wander aimlessly through the Blue Garden District, then out into the streets of the city proper, while Merle does his best to fill Mavis in on all--or at least some--of the details of his and Angus’s lives that she’s missed out on. She’s full of questions--no wonder Angus got along with her so well--and by the time Merle’s answered as many as he can they’re back at Hecuba’s place. Mavis hugs her father goodbye, then pauses with one hand on the door.

“I want to be there,” she says. “When his rites are performed.”

“You aren’t a Bureau member, sweetheart, and there’s no way I can sneak you up there without everyone noticing.”

“Well,” she says, looking back at him over her shoulder. “You’re down one kid on the moon. I’m not a detective, and I don’t think I’m ready to go adventuring with you just yet, but maybe someone up there needs an apprentice?”

“Probably not,” Merle says. “And I don’t know if I’d trust many of the folks up there to teach you--none of them got much done before your Pops and his friends joined up, you know.” He pauses to consider his moon acquaintances in earnest, because surely not all of them can be a waste of magically generated oxygen. “Say, do you wanna be a thief?”

“Stealing is wrong,” Mavis says, the ‘don’t be so dim’ tone of her voice signaling to Merle just what he can probably expect for at least the next decade of their lives.

“A mage?” he continues.

“No desire to blow myself up on accident,” comes the reply.

“You could do that as a thief, too,” he points out absently, stroking his beard while he thinks. Carey comes close to blowing herself up at least once a month, but to be fair that’s probably more of a hobby hazard than a professional one. “No magic, no stealing, no adventuring… How do you feel about carpentry?”

Mavis actually perks up at that one. “I like doing stonework with some of Mom’s relatives,” she says. “Carving wood sounds nice too. Is moon carpentry a thing?”

He’s going to have to tell Magnus some stuff after all, but okay. Maybe Merle can make this work. He’s going to try, at least--and the Director’s been so distracted lately that it might take her a while to notice that they’ve got a fourth person living in the Reclaimers’ quarters. This could work.

“It is, actually,” Merle says. “I’ll ask my pal Magnus how he feels about teaching a kid a thing or two about woodworking in between missions. What about Hecuba and Mookie, though?”

Mavis smiles at him, a wicked look that would do Taako--or hell, even Magic Brian, if he was still around--proud, and sends a shiver of paternal fear down Merle’s spine. “I’ll handle my end if you handle yours.” 

\---

Magnus takes the whole “I’ve got kids and I need another favor” news with hardly more than the blink of an eye and a one-armed hug, and proves to be an enthusiastic teacher; Carey actually appears at several of Mavis’s lessons and swears that she’s finally getting the hang of duck heads, ‘for real this time.’

Taako declares his feathers ruffled by Merle’s keeping secrets; whines about how having a teenage girl around is going to cramp his style and ruin his dating game; and ultimately greets Mavis with a three layer cake and a long, sparkly, dark blue scarf that looks hand-knit. He hands over the scarf with a muttered “It was gonna be Ango’s for next Candlenights, but you’ll probably look better in it anyways,” and disappears back into his room. Mavis uses the scarf to wrap her hair that night and Merle doesn’t see Taako again for three days.

By the time Angus’s rites are performed, Mavis has been living on the moon for a whole month. The Director spots her--it’d be hard not to at this point, since there’s only Magnus and Taako between the two of them--and although she looks ready to throttle Merle, she holds her tongue. She’s a big believer in “a time and a place for everything,” and this is neither. Merle is sure they’ll be having a heated conversation soon enough.

Start to finish, the rites last three hours. Everyone has a little story to tell, and Taako, Magnus, the Director and--of all people--NO-3113 have lots. Ango may have been a bit of a nuisance sometimes, but apparently everyone on the moon adored him. That said, it doesn’t escape Merle’s attention that the Void Fish’s pattern doesn’t do a whole lot of lighting up during the rites. He may have been the World’s Greatest Detective, but Angus was still just a boy when he stopped being up for general hire and moved to the moon. He just hadn’t had time to meet all that many people planetside. The thought makes Merle’s jaw clench painfully, and on either side of him Mavis and Magnus take his hands simultaneously. The one Mavis is clutching is covered in Pheasant’s eye and asphodel; she looks at the flowers closely, then up at him with a watery smile. Merle’s speech may have been the shortest, gruffest one of the whole shebang, but there’s no fooling his daughter about how he feels.

If the whole carpentry thing doesn’t work out, maybe she can take a page from Angus instead. “The Moon’s Greatest Girl Detective” has a pretty nice ring to it, after all.


End file.
